


Wake Up

by flashrevolver



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Minor Injuries, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashrevolver/pseuds/flashrevolver
Summary: Mcreyes Exchange 2020Prompt: One watching the other sleep
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McReap-me-now-76 (SkordeSoldat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkordeSoldat/gifts).



Jesse's known terror. He's looked down the barrel of a cocked pistol. He's been trapped without escape, surrounded on all sides. And yet, of all the terror Jesse has faced, he's never been more afraid than when he saw Gabe go down in the field.

He'd watched Gabe's body hit the ground like a sack of bricks, heard his head bounce off the pavement with a horrible crack, and then he'd dragged him, unconscious, around the corner of a building to call for a medic.

"You'd better wake up," Jesse had said, hands trembling as they skated up and down the planes of Gabe's chest, sides, neck, searching for heat or wetness. His fingers had come away red from a wound somewhere on Gabe's abdomen. There was blood soaking the front of Gabe's black jacket but Jesse couldn't tell where—

"Wake up, Reyes!" he had shouted, and grabbed Gabe by the chin to tilt his head up. Felt his heart sink at how limp Gabe's neck was. How pale he was turning. He'd held him until emergency evac showed up.

Now, Jesse's sitting beside Gabe's cot in the medical tent. It's one o'clock in the morning. Gabe still hasn't woken up, and it's been almost fifteen hours.

He can hear frogs outside, and strange clicking bugs, and the occasional owl. Their temporary base is nothing more than a few tents hidden away in the tropical forest bordering Belize. Nice tents, to be clear, that kept the bugs out, but still tents, and it was hot. Hot and humid.

It's mostly dark in the medical tent, only various monitors and LEDs flashing. Jesse can see Gabe's face clearly though. His eyes have adjusted. Gabe's dark eyelashes cast long, spidery shadows down his cheeks, and there's sweat gleaming on his brow and on his nose. Occasionally his upper lip twitches. 

Jesse focuses on the rise and fall of Gabe's chest under the white hospital gown to keep himself awake. The doctors had assured him Gabe's condition was stable, and that he'd be okay alone overnight. That he was fine, and just needed some rest. Jesse knew he wouldn't be sleeping either way, though, and being here gave him peace of mind. He'd rather be here, watching Gabe's chest swell and his lip twitch, than staring at the ceiling of a different tent and chewing his fingernails to shreds.

He's watched Gabe sleep before a few times, early in the morning after rare nights when he managed to fall asleep in Gabe's bed. This was different, though. Gabe was usually a light sleeper— he'd woken up once just from "sensing" Jesse staring at him— but now, he was just sleeping. All the hard lines of his face were relaxed. Jesse had taken his hand and laced their fingers together hours ago, and Gabe's hand was still limp. Their fingers were only loosely entwined now, because Jesse's palms were sweating ferociously and he didn't want Gabe to wake up to that.

Drowsiness starts to take hold of Jesse at around two. He catches himself dozing off a couple times, his head dipping down and jolting back up. It would be fine if he just rested his eyes, right? Just for a couple minutes.

"Jesse."

The thick forearm he's resting his face on flexes.

"Jess, hey."

Jesse sits up quickly, bringing a hand up to wipe his eyes.

"Oh thank Christ you're awake," he mumbles, and grabs for Gabe's hand again, squeezing it tight and breathing out a long-held sigh of relief as it squeezes back.

"How long have I been asleep?" Gabe asks, his voice all scratchy and deep from disuse. Jesse checks his phone. Almost three o'clock.

"About uh. sixteen hours. You got knocked out at like eleven this morning. Or, yesterday morning I guess."

"Been a while since I've woken up in a hospital bed like this."

"I thought you—" Jesse starts, but shakes his head. He looks up at Gabe, sees his open eyes gleaming in the low light, and squeezes his hand again.

"You been sitting here the whole time?" Gabe asks, and sits up a little bit, face pinching in some sort of pain.

"Yeah."

Gabe laughs and pulls Jesse's hand up to press his knuckles against his lips. Not quite a kiss, but Jesse holds his hand there, feels the soft breath coming from Gabe's nose for a second before letting Gabe put their hands back down on the cot.

"I'm alright," Gabe says, and Jesse scoffs.

"You're pumped full of painkillers. You may be a super soldier, but you hit your head pretty hard, boss."

Gabe brings a hand up and his fingertips find the bandages stuck to the side of his head. He shrugs.

"Well, I'm alright," he says again. "You need to get some sleep, though."

Jesse frowns and clutches Gabe's hand, stroking it harshly with the side of his thumb.

"What, you think if you leave I'm gonna pass out and die?" Gabe asks with a chuckle. Jesse huffs and digs his thumb nail into the back of Gabe's hand rudely.

"No, I didn't—" he says. "I'm just… That scared the shit out of me, you know?"

Gabe's face softens, and Jesse averts his eyes to stare at their hands.

"Don't think I've ever been so scared in my life," Jesse continues quietly. "So, I'm gonna stay here until the medics wake up."

There's a short silence, and then Gabe pulls his hand away and starts to shift over, rolls onto his side carefully.

"Come here, then," he says, and Jesse feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Ain't this bed a little small for both of us?" he asks, but starts taking his boots off regardless. He keeps his pants on, knows it'll only be a few hours before the medics come back and if someone saw them like this— humiliating at best, but probably worse.

Still, he climbs into the cot next to Gabe and they both twist and turn until they find a comfortable position, Gabe practically wrapped around Jesse.

"We fit just fine," Gabe says, and Jesse feels the breath of the words on the back of his neck.

Jesse sets an alarm on his phone for 5:30, gives himself enough time to get back to his own tent before the medics come in, and settles down. He closes his eyes, concentrates on Gabe's slow, even breathing. It's far too hot for them to be pressed together like this, though, and Jesse's already feeling sweat start to pool between them. He huffs, turning his head to get a breath of cooler air and leaning forward to put an inch or so of space between his back and Gabe's chest.

"It's too damn hot," he complains.

"You're wearing cargo pants."

"Well, what if someone came in?"

"What if someone came in now? Is that much better?"

"Sounds like you just want me to take my clothes off."

Gabe exhales a sharp, laughing breath, and it sends cool air down Jesse's neck, makes him break out in goosebumps.

"Maybe," Gabe says, his intonation bordering on salacious.

"You just woke up from a coma, boss," Jesse replies. "Are you serious?"

Gabe snorts, his arm tightening around Jesse's waist.

"I've been in a coma before, Jesse. That wasn't a coma."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I just know."

Jesse rolls onto his other side and props his head up, looking at Gabe with one raised brow. Gabe's got a wide grin on his face, one that reaches his dark eyes and makes them glint with some sort of mischief. 

"You just know," Jesse repeats, and Gabe nods with faux conviction. "What are you smiling like that for?"

"You were really scared?"

Jesse knocks his knuckles against Gabe's arm where it's still loosely draped over his waist.

"Of course I was scared," he hisses. "You got shot. You weren't waking up, your head was just— stop looking at me like that!"

The look Gabe was giving him made him want to bury his head in the sand. Those dark brown eyes were teasing him.

"I'm serious, stop," Jesse says, but he's smiling. Gabe brings his hand up and pinches Jesse's cheek teasingly.

"It's sweet," he says, and Jesse tries to push his hand away, but Gabe doesn't let him.

He takes Jesse by the jaw and brings their faces closer. His grin stays the same, but in an instant the teasing look is replaced by something hungry.

"Gabe," Jesse says, but a thumb against his lips keeps him from continuing. 

Gabe kisses him, just long enough for Jesse to relax into it, and then pulls away.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a knock to the head and one bullet to kill me," he says.

Jesse frowns.

"Someday, I mean," he amends, but Jesse's face doesn't change.

"Alright, nevermind. I'm going to live forever."

Jesse finally cracks a small grin, and Gabe kisses him again, putting his hand on the sloped plane of Jesse's waist.

"I'm never going to die," Gabe says sweetly, and Jesse can feel the other man's smile in the way his mustache tickles his nose. "You're never gonna get rid of me."

A warm hand slides up under Jesse's shirt and then down the back of his pants.

"Still think you should take these off."

Jesse groans in protest, but throws his legs over the side of the cot and slides his pants down. Gabe's weight shifts behind him, and when Jesse turns around, he's laying on his back again.

"And where am I supposed to go?" he asks, and Gabe's finger hooks him by the shirt and pulls until Jesse's straddling his lap. 

"This is a terrible idea all around, Gabe," Jesse says. "You sure this ain't the concussion thinkin' for you?"

But Gabe's hands are on him, his thumbs massaging rowdy circles into the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and Jesse melts into it.

"I'm probably still in better shape than you are right now," Gabe says. 

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Jesse asks, holding three fingers up, and Gabe swats his hand away. "Alright, alright."

He's clearly hard in his briefs, his dick responding helplessly to his thighs being spread over Gabe's lap. When Gabe pulls the thin, white gown up out from under Jesse's thighs, he realizes Gabe's just as hard. His dick stands tall but heavy, bobbing down and kissing his belly. 

Jesse touches it, takes it in his hands and strokes it slowly from base to tip, revels in the measured breaths Gabe has to take to avoid making a sound. 

"I wanna ride you," Jesse finds himself saying, his eyes locked on Gabe's dick as it twitches between his fingers.

"There's probably lube of some kind somewhere in this tent," Gabe says, and Jesse shakes his head.

"Don't think I'll need it," he says. Gabe raises a brow, looks almost amused.

"Sure, cowboy," he says. "We can try."

Jesse accepts that as the challenge it is and starts taking his boxers off. 

Neither of them are by any means dry. Gabe's dick is leaking steadily, and they're both drenched in sweat. Plus, Jesse had taken it hardly a day ago. Had taken it a dozen times. He spits, letting a string of saliva fall onto the head of Gabe's dick, and the slide of his hand is easy. Gabe sighs.

Raising himself up to his knees, Jesse grinds his hole against Gabe's cock, bites his lip as he presses the tip in. There's a burn, but it doesn't hurt, it's almost sweet. He sinks down until the head is inside him, and looks up to see Gabe's eyes pressed shut, panting between his parted lips.

Jesse sits, slowly, feels every inch of Gabe's cock as he spears himself on it, and Gabe's hands return to grip his thighs.

"Oh my God," Gabe says under his breath, and Jesse grins, sitting still and triumphant as he adjusts to Gabe's girth. "That doesn't hurt?"

"Feels fucking good," Jesse says, leaning forward and pressing his palms against Gabe's chest.

He slowly starts to raise himself up, the friction making him shudder, and sinks down again.

"Oh, you're so—" Gabe starts, but has the breath knocked out of him as Jesse starts to ride him in earnest. 

"So what?" Jesse breathes, arching his back and sliding down on Gabe again and again.

"Tight," Gabe gasps, removing one hand from Jesse's thigh to wipe sweat off his brow.

Jesse seats himself again and clenches his hole, grinding in slow circles and whining quietly when he angles himself back and feels pressure on his prostate.

He leans back, grabbing Gabe's shins to hold himself up, and bounces his hips, moaning outright when he finally nails his prostate against the head of Gabe's dick.

"Someone's gonna hear you, Jesse," Gabe mutters without much conviction. 

Jesse bites his lip but it only muffles his cries as he continues to move his hips, continues to ride Gabe like his life depends on it. He's got the angle just right, can feel his own dick bouncing untouched against his belly and leaving thick strings of precum.

Gabe reaches out to touch it, and Jesse squeezes his eyes closed. All it takes is a couple strokes, expertly timed to match the slide against his prostate, and Jesse's coming. Every muscle in his body tightens, and he realizes he's being too loud but can't help it. He comes in ropes over Gabe's fist and abdomen.

Gabe bites his knuckle as Jesse clenches around him, the tightness pushing him over the edge, and he comes deep inside him, his body jerking and shivering.

The tent is quiet save for the sounds of their panting breaths. Jesse stays seated, twitching around Gabe's dick until it goes soft, and then pulls off him gingerly.

There's hair stuck to his face, and his shirt is soaked with sweat, and he's exhausted. He pulls his underwear on with a groan, and Gabe rolls to make room for him again on the cot. He takes the spot happily, curling against Gabe's front, and barely has time to care about the heat before his eyes slip shut.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Lundin, I hope you like it!


End file.
